Tuesday, October 02, 2007

the line that started with 'it's'

in the time it took to walk into another room(and look for a pen) it vanished, the first thought and nowthinking really bad thoughts and steamon the person/s who took all the pens, even the onein the desk drawer with the pending, nobody messes with

(and the pen) it's the opposite of close to handthe bad lingers moving about, opening doors and windowsthe overcast day coming in, me staring it out andit could rain before the line that started with 'it's' comes backinto thought and the pen is retrieved

from a tote bag that took time to locate, using touch and reachinto a bag full of everything with one want, mouth many fucksshopping dockets stuck to the uncovered lipstick, tobacco and keepfinding the heavy clump of keys at the bottom with tissuesthese everythings, this play and the touch at the fingertips

(the pen) it's in my hand and nowherein my head, the line that started

5 Comments:

Bec said...

I really connected with this one mum. I feel your emotions within your writing and can envision this unfolding inside your house, running from room to room, which is so familiar to both you and I. So familiar to the point our memories are perfected with each little light and feeling that is present within those walls.

That is what I received from this entry. Thank you mum. You certainly do have a strong gift and even though I don't seem to be able to say so often, I am so overwhelmingly proud of you.